Summary

The first time Steve sees Bucky Barnes, he knows he is so fucked.

He can’t be older than 20.

Golden skin and grey eyes with sinfully long eyelashes, a chaotic nest of gelled curls on his head, wearing an almost-transparent grey t-shirt paired with impossibly tight black jeans over his endless legs. He looks up when Steve comes into the lab – summoned by Tony to check out the latest suit redesign – and bites down on his plush lower lip and smiles shyly at Steve.

Summary

The cell was a sinister parody of a cheesy roadside motel. An enormous heart-shaped bed draped in red satin sheets took up half the room. There was a small mountain of pillows heaped by the headboard, a little wicker basket of supplies Steve didn’t want to think about, and an honest-to-God sprinkling of rose petals across the bedspread. It would have been funny if not for the ceiling camera positioned above the bed, guarded by a panel of probably-unbreakable glass.

The guards shoved Steve, Rogers, and Cap inside the room and backed out. The door closed behind them with the dull thud of reinforced steel and concrete. “You boys have fun!” one of the guards shouted, to a chorus of jeers and snickers.

“Wow,” Steve deadpanned, eyeing the whole travesty of a honeymoon suite before them. He didn’t know where to start. “This is...thorough.”

“I’ll say.” Rogers rummaged through the basket of supplies. “There are five different kinds of lube in here.”

(A team of AIM scientists reach into alternate universes to kidnap alpha, beta, and omega versions of Steve Rogers, hoping that together they’ll breed the next generation of supersoldiers. The Steves do not cooperate. Hijinks ensue.)